Forbidden Taste at the Country House

I was lying on the old wooden couch in the guest room of the dacha when Alina walked in with a tray. Her white nurse's uniform hugged her hips, and the look she gave me lingered far too long for a routine check-up. We both knew I wasn't here for a real illness—just a pulled ligament from a picnic with friends. But her fingers, brushing against my shoulder, trembled a little more than necessary.

"How are you feeling today, Max?" she asked quietly, setting the tray on the table. Her voice was hushed, as if afraid the walls might hear. Outside, the pines rustled, and the house was silent—everyone had gone to the lake.

I caught her wrist, and she didn't pull away. My heart was pounding so hard I thought she could hear it.

"Alina... you've been thinking about it too, haven't you?" I whispered, looking straight into her brown eyes.

She bit her lip, cheeks flushing.

"Six months now... since you were in our hospital. I stayed quiet. Watched you and imagined... how you'd..." She trailed off, breath quickening. Her fingers slid across my chest under the thin t-shirt. "Here, at this dacha, with everyone gone... I can't hold back anymore."

The tension hung thick, like summer air before a storm. I pulled her closer, and our lips met—first tentative, then hungry. Her tongue was hot, her hands damp with nervousness. The uniform came undone on its own, revealing a lace bra and smooth skin. I ran my palm down her back, feeling her shiver.

"Then don't hold back," I breathed against her lips. "Show me what you've been dreaming about."

Alina sank to her knees in front of the couch, her eyes gleaming with arousal and a hint of fear of being caught. Her hands shook as she pulled down my shorts. My cock was already hard, throbbing under her gaze. She licked her lips, looking up at it.

"It's so... big," she whispered, wrapping her fingers around the base. "I've imagined taking it in my mouth so many times... right here, where no one can see."

Her breath burned my skin. I threaded my fingers through her dark hair, not pushing, just holding. Alina leaned in, and her soft lips touched the head—first gently, her tongue tracing the ridge. The sound was wet, quiet, almost obscene against the creak of old floorboards and distant birdsong outside. She opened wider, slowly taking me deeper. The warmth and wetness of her mouth enveloped my cock, her tongue pressing from below, gliding along the shaft.

"Oh, Alina... deeper, if you want," I exhaled, my voice cracking.

She moaned in response, the vibration running through my entire length. Her head moved unhurriedly, up and down, taking a little more each time. Saliva dripped down her chin, falling onto her chest, leaving wet trails on the lace. I could hear her breathing through her nose, muffled, trying to stay quiet. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked harder, her eyes looking up, full of desire and forbidden delight.

"You're so... hot when you do that..." I whispered, stroking her cheek. "Did you dream about this at the hospital? When you gave me my shots?"

She nodded, not releasing my cock from her mouth. Her lips wrapped tightly around me, her tongue swirling, teasing. I felt the head press against her throat, felt her gag slightly, but she didn't stop. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, but she smiled around my cock—a mischievous, aroused smile. Her hand stroked my balls, fingers rolling them gently while her mouth kept working—rhythmic, wet, greedy.

I couldn't hold back and thrust my hips forward slightly.

"I want to cum in your mouth... okay?" I asked hoarsely, already on the edge.

"Mmm... yes... please," she breathed, pulling away for just a second. Her voice was raspy, lips glistening with saliva. "I want to taste your cum... all of it."

Alina sped up, her head moving faster, throat relaxing to take me almost fully. The sounds grew louder—sucking, soft moans, her breathing. I gripped the edge of the couch, feeling the tension building in my gut. The first powerful surge—and hot cum shot into her mouth. She didn't pull away, swallowing greedily with a quiet, satisfied moan. Some spilled down her chin, but she licked it all up, continuing to suck, milking every last drop.

When I went soft, she rose, wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and smiled—both shy and triumphant.

"Tasty..." she whispered, kissing me on the lips. There was still a salty taste in my mouth.

The night passed in half-sleep, embraces, and quiet conversation. In the morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, smelling of coffee and pine resin. Alina, wearing only my robe, was brewing coffee in the small kitchen. I came up behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist. She startled, then leaned back into me.

"Good morning," she said without turning around. Her voice was soft, but the same spark was there. "Coffee?"

"Yeah. And you... again," I replied, kissing her neck.

She laughed softly, but the look she shot over her shoulder was full of the same forbidden thoughts. We drank coffee, stealing glances at each other until our friends returned from the lake. No one suspected what had happened between us. But we both knew—this was just the beginning.